The Boy in the Melting Snow
by DreadingTheDayWhenYou'reGone
Summary: Where is he? Who are the people above him, talking? Why does his head pain him when he tries to think of his past? Why does the snow melt under his barefeet? Why did that young girl call him the boy in the melting snow? All these questions bother him as he stares at the strange ceiling above him, wondering who he is.
1. Chapter 1: The Boy in the Melting Snow

**Oh, gosh, I have no idea what I'm getting myself into while I write so many stories at once. Then again, three isn't that bad considering what I could do. And two of these three are going to be short. **

**Anyway, sorry this one's short. But the other chapters should be longer than this one. This is only a prologue of sorts, but it's just the first chapter, not a prologue. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. Blah, blah, blah. All that good stuff sadly doesn't belong to me.**

* * *

The world is a haze of cold and warmth to him. How those two adjectives came when he thought of the world is a mystery. There are figures standing above him, figures whose names are nothing but letters he has yet to find out. He can hear words being said, but he can't place a finger on their meanings. "We can't just leave him," one of the figures say. A girl's voice.

A warm, fuzzy hand grabs him. Strength, belonging to that of an adolescent boy, pulls him up and over the boy's shoulder. A girl, not much older than the age of ten, walks behind him. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice husky as he dares to speak some of the words he knows. Thank you, two simple words that mean the world to the girl.

"Hurry up, Umimaru!" the girl says after smiling to the boy, ushering him to walk faster. "It wouldn't be good for him to freeze out here."

"He's not cold, Mizu. He's oddly warm." At the boy's words, as if to test the words for herself, gloveless fingers touch the unnamed boy's cheek. And her hand recoils fast.

"How is that possible?" she whispers, her hand now back in the warmth of her animal skin glove.

"We'll leave the questions for someone higher than us," the boy, Umimaru, states. Then, without knowing, the boy whose name is yet to be found, fell into sleep.

* * *

Warmth that does not belong to him awakens him. The smell of meat baking adds to the quick rising of the boy. The sound of chatter rises from the other room. "Oh, you're awake," a voice says. The owner of the voice is not Umimaru or Mizu, but that of a grown woman with brown hair. The world is still a blur to him, but this time not as cold.

More words come out of his mouth, unknowing and a tad frightened. "Where am I?"

"The North Pole, dear," the same woman states, standing with a bowl in her grasp.

"North...North Pole?" The boy's words tumble out of his mouth, slipping over each other as if they were ice-skating for the first time.

"Yes. Here, eat some of this. It will warm you up." And she hands him bowl, steam trickling out and above until it disappears in the cold, frosty air.

The boy needs no warming up, though; his body is already warm, despite the coldness around him. He can feel, as he thought about his body temperature, snow and ice below his feet beginning to melt. He lifts his feet up, not knowing they were once before touching melting ground, and gathers them under himself.

"Where are you from, boy?" the same woman asks, her words unsure of themselves as they're asked, as if she's treading on unknown ground in a storm.

When the boy thinks about the question, he places a hand to his hurting head. Puzzled by the sudden hurt, he places the bowl on his cot. Blankets and animal skins surround him. "Mika, come here please," a different voice says.

The woman, Mika, stands, leaving the boy alone for a moment. A girl, the one from before, scurries in behind the adults, a smile spread across her face. She truly looks young, nine at the least now that he looks at her better.

She is so close, her blue eyes the color of the sea and her brown hair matching her mother's. "The boy in the melting snow," she whispers, her hands holding his face so she can look at him. "Such a young boy surrounded by melting snow and nobody to look after him." Mizu, as the older boy had said before, is quickly scolded for bothering him.

"What did I tell you before about bothering him?" Mika asks, her hand pointing at the young girl. She disappears swiftly, running behind both parents before they come over to the unnamed boy.

The man, the one who must be Mizu's father, steps forward. He looks into the boy's eyes, searching for some answer. "Your name, son. What is it?"

The boy, just like before, thinks for a moment, searching for something in his head. And his hand is suddenly holding his head. "I...I don't know." His voice comes out almost silent.

Mika's husband meets his wife's eyes, a question rising deep within their different eye colors. Blue conversing with brown. "How old are you?" the women asks, breaking the connection with her husband. "You don't look younger than our daughter, Mizu."

Again, his face turns a shade of white that matches closely to the snow and his head spins. "We don't want to hurt him, Mika. Let's just settle on the age of ten. Simple." The mother's hand holds the boy's face, staring into his eyes.

Mika lets go of his face, stepping back. "His eyes, Manirak. His eyes." The boy becomes puzzled again at what the mother said, watching as the husband walks over to him. His hand tentatively touches the area around his eyes. Nothing seems to be wrong, nothing at all.

Manirak, as his hand comes away from the boy's face, says, "Your eyes are a beautiful shade of brown. Almost like they are golden." The older man pats the unnamed boy. "There's nothing to be worried about. My wife was just startled by their odd appearance. Mika," he tells his wife, standing, "I believe we should let the boy sleep; he seems rather tired. We'll question the boy and figure things out tomorrow, when he's rested."

They leave, sending the boy alone in the room surrounded by cold ice. Their matching footsteps disappear in a moment, letting the boy to place his feet back on the ground, now certain that he had melted some of the packed element. He has no idea what he is doing, not why he's touching the ground or why it's starting to melt.

So many questions run through his head. So many that nobody seems to hold the answer to. Why was Mika frightened by his eyes? Why was his body so warm outside in the cold? Why did his head hurt when he tried to answer their questions? And the question that bothers him the most as he experiments with touching the ground with his bare feet is the one nobody seems to hold the answer to: Who exactly is he?


	2. Chapter 2: A Name Shrouded in Secrets

**Eh, I wasn't too keen on placing this one up here. I rewrote it a few times, testing the waters of the story, but every time I rewrote it, I wasn't pleased with the way it came out. But, after some time, I decided on this way.**

**I'm glad you guys are enjoying this so far!**

**The Dark Door: I'm not a Zutara fan, at all... It just won't work, what with water being the _exact _opposite of fire just won't work for me. For now, I don't plan on making this a romance-y fanfiction, as most of my other fanfics have turned out to be... And if I decide to make him fall in love, I don't want it to be with a waterbender (which Mizu is, I just haven't gotten to that yet...). BUT that's for later and this A/N is getting too long for my tastes.**

* * *

A single name fills his dreams. A voice, gentle as the wind and that of a woman's, speaks to him. It's not a nightmare, he thinks, but a dream of something forgotten. "Osamu, you'll be fine." The presence of somebody's warm hand on his face, but he can't see the woman at all. It's as if his eyes are tightly closed even in the dream.

"We'll make it home soon." But the lady doesn't sound confident of herself. Not one bit confidence that they'll return from where they are now.

* * *

He wakes up, the last traces of the hand leaving him, on the third day of being here, cold wrapping around his skin. The boy places his hand on his face, right over the dream hand. His own hand warms his cheek, and Mika walks in, a bowl in her hand.

"I'm glad you're awake now. I was just about to wake you for breakfast." She smiles, her voice carrying notes of happiness. The mother then notices the hand against his own face and places the bowl on the cold ground. "What's wrong?"

It takes him a moment to find his voice, warmth that fills the cold air before merging with the chill. "Osamu. She called me Osamu."

"Who called you Osamu?" she asks, getting ready to yell for her husband at the boy's words.

"A woman in my dream. She called me Osamu." Then, as if unsure of himself, he turns to meet the woman's brown eyes. "I think that's my name."

"Manirak!" the mother yells, summoning the husband from the other room. The husband rushes in, worrying of what might have happened to the boy they've taken in. The blue-eyed man hits the wall with force as he rounds the corner, worry clear in his eyes. "Meet Osamu."

The husband smiles and nods before rubbing his side where he hit the cold wall._ So the boy in the melting snow has a name_, Umimaru thinks, his eyes wandering around the corner as they talk.

But the two siblings, as if by a secret holding them together, will always hold the nickname of him close.

* * *

The weeks dribble by as they take care of him. His stomach now full after each meal. They question him still, but it results in the same thing. Spinning head, blurs of people, hurt. Nothing that can answer their questions.

Soon, as if knowing it won't change, they stop asking all together. They soon let him venture outside, fire close to his body, shoes holding his once bare feet.

He steps out of the house, the picture of snow all around him. Some of it falls from the sky, but most of it is already below his feet. The two siblings, Umimaru and Mizu, step out of the house with the tentative boy, knowing he won't be able to find his way back here if he was left on his own.

There are simple huts made of snow here and there, some of them igloos. A village away from the main city, the parents told him awhile ago. This is the first time he's been outside since they found him, and the sight of the blanket of white, shining snow seems to hurt his eyes.

The sun is high above, red but not melting anything, as if it is just painted across the sky for decoration. Osamu looks up at the sky, wondering why the sun high above isn't melting the sun around him. But something, the part he doesn't know about, deep down, surges as he walks out. A course of power that makes the ten-year-old stagger backward.

"Are you all right?" Umimaru asks, his hand steadying the younger boy. "Do you want to go back inside?"

"I'm fine," he answers, resisting the urge to place his hand on his head to stop the spinning. The look on his face doesn't reassure either of the people beside him, but they continuing walking.

As they walk, Osamu can't help but remember the conversation he overheard the night after he came into these people's lives. All along, since Mizu told him that he was the boy in the melting ice, he wondered what she meant by that. A few days before, Umimaru was retelling the story to his parents, telling them that the snow and ice around him was melting, a small pool of water around his body. The second a flake of snow hit him, it was melted, like the unknown boy's body was fire.

It felt like it was steaming inside him. The boy's skin warm to the touch, even now as he continues to walk. Mizu got the better of him, ushering Umimaru to pick him up at the sound of a groan from the younger boy.

Osamu comes back to the present time, falling into step behind the two siblings. "The village is small and everybody knows your business," Umimaru states, waving his hand toward one of the elderly.

"But the people are friendly. You can't forget that, Umi," Mizu interrupts, tugging on her older brother's sleeve to get his attention.

The older sibling sighs, and, as he continues to talk, Osamu's eyes flicker over the two, wondering, if he could remember his past, if he had someone in his family like that. He tunes back in later, the conversation becoming boring as the village lays behind them. "Sometimes the Fire Nation will come, but not often. We are far away from the main city, so they don't notice us that much." The older boy pauses in thought. "Then again, being so close to the shoreline, the could bring their warships here and-"

"Mom told you not to talk about that in front of him!" Mizu interrupts again, but Osamu steps forward, a hand to stop the younger girl from talking.

Those words. Those words send a hand to his head as he tries to remember. Fire Nation. "No, it's all right. I want to know."

The trio pauses, the village now behind them. "We should head back; it's getting late," Umimaru states, turning to look at the village that stands small in comparison to the white snow around it.

Before Osamu can reply, the two relatives turn, Mizu's hand connecting with Umimaru's. She looks back, waving to the boy to follow. No choice but to, he does, a question forming on his lips as they enter the small village.

_Why doesn't Mika want them to talk about the Fire Nation in front of me? _He runs, the questions leaving his brain as they enter the quiet igloo belonging to the family.


	3. Chapter 3: The Beginning of Fire

**Ahh! I'm sorry for this being so late! I got caught up in my other fanfic and couldn't write this chapter out. But, despite the short absence, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I _know _I had some fun writing it, not that much happens that is fun. Anyway, enjoy! I'll see you next time!**

**I wonder if anyone caught that bit of foreshadowing at the end of chapter 2...**

**The Dark Door: I believe your question will be answered at the end of this chapter. But, if it's not, he doesn't know firebending or that he could firebend. But he will learn it. Not at the North Pole, but someplace else.**

* * *

A few weeks pass of him living at the small village. Everyone has come to know him, the boy who was found in the melting snow. His pale skin and golden eyes set him off from the other people, not to mention whenever some touches his skin, they recoil fast at the odd warmth in the cold tundra. But they smile at him, looking at his forehead or nose or mouth, but any place but his eyes. Everyone, that is, except for the family that took him in.

Times that he's not out hunting, he sits by the fire where he feels comfortable. It's not the constant warmth the flame gives him that makes him comfortable, but the feeling that he belongs with the flame that makes him want to stay there, that makes him feel like he _belongs._

Even though this community seems to accept him, he doesn't feel like he belongs. The stares that he sees out of the corner of his eyes, the occasional murmur of firebender coming to his ears; it's the constant reminder that he doesn't truly belong there.

Everyone knows it.

* * *

A particularly cold night rolls by, covering even hot-skinned Osamu with the cold. He can't sleep; he hasn't been able to sleep peacefully for the last few night. The boy wanders over to the main room, the curtain of animal skin closing quietly behind him.

The fire is almost gone, red embers daring to stand against the cold, but Osamu walks over to it. As he squats down, he can't help but place his hands in front of him like he does when he feels the want to touch it, to hold the flame in his hand.

A sudden heat moves down his arms and on his hands, but he doesn't pull back, he just stares at the growing fire in wonder. But, in moments of him staring at it, the warmth becomes greater. The flame billows up and out of the pit in the snow, melting a circle of snow that the boy squats in.

Osamu stumbles back, his feet slipping in the snow. The fire is too big, almost touching the ceiling. And, when it does reach the ceiling, water starts to drip from the blocks, sizzling out by the heat.

The fire is greater than the amounts of water it's burning through, and it's gripping the animal skin rugs nearby. They catch fire quickly, sending the smell of burning animal skin through the air.

He hits his back against the wall, his warm hands gripping on the melting ice. Osamu, for the first time that he can remember, feels scared, but that doesn't stop him from hearing the shouts from the other room, yelling for everyone to put the fire out. The smoke makes everything hard to do, the air is filled with smoke.

All the rooms converge to the main room, sending realization through Osamu. If they find him in here, they'll probably blame him. The panicked boy slips back into his room without being noticed.

Moments later, his animal skin is opened. Mika stands there, yelling for him to get out of there and with the others. He walks through the skin, Mika placing her arm around the young boy.

Quickly, she ushers him out of the igloo toward Umimaru, who stands away from it as he watches his father and sister put the element out with their skills. Osamu quickly stands behind the older boy, shielding himself away from anyone if they suspected him of being responsible for this—which he was. But, as he hides behind the sixteen year old, he watches as the water lashes out with the quick motion of a flick from the two benders' arms.

The boys watch in awe as they continue, extinguishing the flames quickly. How, a nine year old female, could whip water twice as long as her height so easily sets as a mystery to Osamu.

"They're waterbenders, Osamu," Umimaru says, finally taking notice of the younger boy behind him. "Mizu got it from him, but I can't bend. Mother can't either. She acts so much like him."

At this, the fire turns into smoke, the smoke a river in the night sky. Osamu steps out from behind Umimaru now. "Any idea what started it?" Mika asks, concern in her eyes as she pulls Osamu toward her, as if the culprit started the fire to take the unknown boy away.

"It looked like it came from the fire pit," Manirak states, turning toward the almost destroyed house. "It's going to be easy to fix, that's for sure. It should be back up in a day or two if we get started on it now."

"It's the middle of the night."

"That just makes it that much easier to get it done. Scratch that, it'll probably be up by midmorning." And so, the two benders began pulling up water and freezing it into place where it is needed.

* * *

Osamu still hasn't told anyone yet of the night, but the raging fire got around the small village. Gossip of what happened flow around. But they are quickly put down by other people who saw what happened. Before the family went to bed, says a 'reliable' source, they had forgotten to put it out. So the fire raged out, lashing out and waking the family.

And, as if it's someone trying to catch water with his bare hands, the gossip stops and the memories Osamu has of the night dribbles into small amounts.

* * *

He's been here for over a year, the days dribbling by in a blur of snow and cold. On a few occasions, Manirak takes him with Umimaru and the other men of the tribe to hunt. He doesn't do much as he watches the older men hunt for food. But, as the others take down a pack of wolves, he remembers the night of the fire.

Even though it happened less than a year ago, he barely remembers it. He remembers the fear of the fire that could have taken his life and vaguely remembers the warmth that flowed from his arms down to his hands. A flash of orange flames falling from a person's hands flickers by.

"Osamu!" Manirak yells, a spear in hand. He waves the boy—now eleven—forward toward the beast. All Osamu can see is the red liquid dripping from Manirak's spear point and staining the white snow. "Grab a wolf and let's head back." Osamu does as he is told, pulling a relatively small wolf on his back.

The youngest boy knows the blood from the wound that inflicted this creatures death will mark his clothes, but he walks behind the other warriors, his booted feet sinking in the packed snow before coming up again.


	4. Chapter 4: Information from the Leaving

**Guess who started titling chapters? ME! Wonderful, isn't it? I've never really had a knack for naming chapters before, but I felt compelled to name this one. I almost added some more to this, more of fire. But I decided I should leave that for next time. I hope you all are enjoying this so far, and updates might come ever week or so. **

* * *

Smiles all around. Smiles that look at him. Smiles that look over him. Smiles everywhere and Osamu holds a fake smile.

It's Umimaru's nineteenth birthday, a day of celebration throughout this small village. Everyone is knitted in a circle, smiling and singing to this boy. Singing to the nonbender. Smiling at him and giving him thanks for the times he's spent here.

Mizu's was like this, her tweleth birthday filled with joy and waterbending. But Osamu's thirteenth was spent in the house, the only celebration within their band of people. Nobody from the village was invited. When Osaum asked about that, they simply answered because he wasn't well known throughout the village and left it at that.

Umimaru comes back into their igloo, layered with items. A spear falls near the entrance of the house, and a pair of clothes sit on the top of the pile. He's leaving soon, Osamu can tell that much. He's heard the whispers from his parents, the small rumors that float around town, the way Umimaru tries so hard to take down the biggest beast on the hunts.

He's trying to prove himself.

* * *

"Umimaru," Osamu begins, searching for the words that fit correctly.

"Yes, Osamu?" the older boy asks, not looking up from the bag he is packing.

"Where will you go?"

"I've already talked to Father and Mother about it. They said it was time for me to leave, to go fight in the war. I'm going-"

"War?" Osamu interrupts, looking with curiosity as the nonbender sits next to Osamu with kind eyes.

"I should have told you earlier, about everything. About the war that's been going on for almost a hundred years. The death of loved ones. The killing of an entire art of bending. And the lost Avatar."

"Avatar? What's an Avatar?"

"You're almost fourteen, Osamu, and we've kept so much from you. We thought it'd protect you. We thought it'd keep you safe from memories. We thought so much about lying to you. But you should know everything. You should know about the war and the Fire Nation and the Avatar. You should know everything, but Mother and Father won't let me tell you. They want to keep you sheltered." His voice is low, trying hard not to let it leak into the other rooms.

"You need to know, because something is happening. Someone important is coming and you can feel it. There are rumors, so many of them that it's hard not to believe them, that the Avatar has returned."

"I still don't understand what the Avatar is? What is it?"

"He's a person, not a thing. He's someone we thought to be long dead. He's alive, though. He's full of wonder and he's _alive_! The Avatar is going to end this war. Going to stop the Fire Nation from killing innocent people. Everyone can feel it in the air; the day is getting closer, the day the Avatar frees us from this war."

_"The day is getting closer, the day the Avatar frees us from this stupid war," _another voice, one very much like the one who told him his name, rings through his head. Then the frigid water fills his mind. Cold and surrounding his being.

"Osamu?" Umimaru asks, his voice so full of concern. "Are you all right?"

The boy lies then, lies because if he tells Umimaru what he felt that night so long ago, what he remembers, he would fear him. Fear him because he's finally started to guess at who he really is. The flashes of red, the warm touch he has, the eyes that don't meet his golden orbs, the secrets of the Fire Nation and war. He's come to realize so many things in the past years. So many wonderful things. And he's seen so much, seen the death of many animals just for the sake of this village living, the blood staining his fur coat, the fire licking the ice, and the looks of this family.

"I'm fine, Umimaru. Everything is fine."

* * *

_Umimaru is leaving today, _Osamu thinks, watching as the older boy places his things, with the help of his father, into a canoe. They will be heading to the Northern Water Tribe, the main one, because they live a little ways off. A wonderful place, this small village is with only a few weeks of contact with the bigger family just down the ocean. With Manirak's return, he will bring supplies for the rest of the village, surprises for the young ones.

For the younger ones, this is a delight, but, to the growing Mika and Osamu, all they see is a brother off to war. A good boy who has no bending and cares for everyone.

* * *

It's decided, once Manirak hands Osamu a spear, one made of whale tooth and bone, that he will learn to hunt properly. He already knows how to kill animals, but humans, with their knowledge of dodging easily and hold on a proper weapon, are more difficult.

So, with the help of Manirak and the other children who don't already know how to fight real people, he stands, his fur coat holding on his already warm skin. Everyone else is already at work for the days chores, setting out on fishing or keeping the fire to a low flame, but never extinguishing it completely.

The other children, happy with their small spears and such, talk in joy, ready for this wonderful experience that will come close But Osamu is different, he grips with spear with a death grip and doesn't join in on the chatter. Umimaru's words from weeks before are like a manta in his head. _"The day is getting closer, the day the Avatar frees us from this war."_

And then the woman's so close to his words. He wonders, as Manirak talks about things, what they mean, how they speak the same words almost exactly. He wonders who that woman is, how she plays in this young boy's life.

"Osamu, you don't have a partner," someone behind him states. The boy mentioned spins around with such speed, he doesn't notice when he knocks the person behind him down. Another boy, Osamu's age, stands still, not frightened by the speed Osamu turned around with, his spear hanging by his side. "You need a partner, Osamu," the boy says again.

"For what?" Osamu replies, not paying attention to the instructions his adoptive father gave him.

"We're to fight against one another with the end of our spears, only for a few minutes, though." The boy who is to be his partner fixes his icy blue eyes on the boy before him, doing something hardly anyone before him has done. A small breeze comes through, fighting its way through the thick clothes of the villagers.

"Yana, right?" Osamu asks, taking a jab in the dark as he asks the boy his name. He nods while taking his stance, his gloved fingers moving on the bone surface smoothly.

As the two of them spar, slipping a few times on snow and ice, Osamu comes to the conclusion that, if he ever fought with a sword, it would be much different. There would be quick spins and falls of the swords, jabs and a shorter range than that of a spear. Osamu almost stops in his tracks, wondering where he got the images of the sword fighter from.

A memory long gone, he guesses.


	5. Chapter 5: Realization

**I'm back! Sorry it took so long for me to update, I've had some trouble with this one. And school is giving me a hard time. Excuses, Dreading, excuses. Anyway, enjoy and I'll hope to see you again sometime soon.**

* * *

His skills with spears have increased since the last time, but each time he attempts to fight, the area around him changes. A flash of a man, smiling down, with a wooden sword in hand. This, Osamu guesses, is why he thought of a sword each time he spared with Yana and on his own. A memory, belonging to that of a young boy surrounded by grass and sunshine and smiles—real smiles, not the fake ones he receives from people.

Every chance he gets, whether it be with a villager who isn't scared of him or little Yana, he asks about the Fire Nation. Thus far, he's learned so many things from the little glimpses he has before he falls into sleep. So many things that keep sipping away from him.

He recalls, as he sits in the snow staring at the ocean before him, his name,—the first memory—then one of a man with brown hair staring down at him, another of a scream flashing past, and fire. There's more, but he's already turned those over so many times he became tired of them. He tries, now, to memorize the faces of the woman who named him and the man. Maybe even go as far as to recognise the scream. But he can't, no matter how hard he tries.

"Osamu," a voice says. He sits up, quickly to look at the face of the girl speaking. Mizu's brown hair has grown past that of her childhood hair. Her bangs are trimmed down, hovering over her blue eyes as she looks at him. Even though her hair is long, it's pulled up into some elaborate braid falling down her back. "Dinner." Her head flicks over toward the village not far behind them, and Osamu stands.

As they walk, Mizu starts a conversation. "You weren't at practice today," she notes.

"I wasn't," the boy replies, staring at the snow before him. His feet crunch as they break the snow, walking at the same pace as the younger girl.

"Why?"

"I was thinking. I still am." He pauses before adding, "But I'll practice on my own tonight, before it gets too dark."

The waterbender looks at him for a moment before dashing off with a laugh. Osamu doesn't know what's so funny and doesn't end up joining in on the laughter or running. Instead, his pace seems to slow down some.

* * *

After a quiet meal of seal meat and soup, Osamu steps outside. He knows that soon enough they'll be going to visit Umimaru, who is now taking a break at the North Pole capital. With the family of three plus the boy they took in, a few other families will join them, their eldest sons with Umimaru as well. Not to mention Mizu will be beginning her healing training along with some other kids her age. And some younger, seeing as Mizu was somewhat of a "late bloomer" in waterbending, only getting the hang of it after Osamu appeared.

So, the young boy steps out of the igloo, a spear in his hand with imaginary enemies at ready. The other villagers know his drill whenever he skips practice- which they would also know because news spreads like wildfire in this small village- but he didn't really skip. He didn't want to go, the practice already drilled into his skull. The constant fighting with the other children, the happiness some of them show. But he would feel more comfortable with a sword, like he already thought about.

The thing that bothers him the most now is how he knows it'd feel better fighting with a sword. It puzzles him so much that, at times, he stares at the ceiling for hours. It's a mystery that he might never know, never find out because of his long gone past.

Mentally, the boy shakes his head and tunes in on his surroundings. People with no faces appear, the people he usually fights against, swords in hand and armor covering their body. They don't wear a color on their armor, it just seems to shift with the surroundings around them.

One of them comes up fast, jabbing his sword where it would hit Osamu. The boy comes away from the fake sword, and twists his spear so it's poking through the weak spot of the armor. The warrior disappears in a ball of smoke, drifting into the air of imagination. Even as a teenager, Osamu's imagination runs rapid. The boy guesses it is because he can't remember much of his true childhood, just glimpses like he's looking through an opening.

He fights for a bit, each warrior disappearing as if it died. Then something unusual happens. One of the soldiers summons fire, dancing at the edges of his sword, and throws it at the young boy.

For that moment, Osamu forgets it isn't real, that it's just a blur of people from his mind. He acts without thinking and is almost glad that nobody is out and about. The spear drops from his grasp and his hands come out to disperse the flames with his own. He's remembered the night of the flames well by now, seeing as he's had time to think about it enough. Even if he doesn't know how it happened, it did and he has a feeling the fire grew because of him.

Osamu finds himself sprawled on the wet ground, a place of melting snow ahead of him. The spear is by his head, where he dropped it. The flames are long gone by now, meaning the wet ground is slowly turning back to ice with the cold. It hits him hard, the realization that only he seems to realize now.

The realization that he's a firebender.

* * *

They sit in a boat on their way to the North Pole. It's quicker this way than walking, and less dangerous with waterbenders to push and pull the water forward. Osamu, his knuckles white against the brown transportation, is shaking. Not from the cold or the fear of falling in, but because of the realization of what he is, of what people could see him do.

He's afraid they'll find out, that they'll hate him for being Fire Nation. They already hate the Fire Nation, and he feels some welcomed by Manirak, Mizu, and Mika. It'd just break his heart to tell them.

Now that he thinks about it, he knows they'll banish him, or, worse, kill him. They'll think him a spy for the Fire Nation, think he's faking not knowing who he is. The whole village, already weary of him, will kill him for sure.

His golden eyes and warm touch, his mysterious appearance. Everything he is is suspicious. Everything he can do from now on is one step closer to being found out.

_I must be careful, _Osamu tells himself.


	6. Chapter 6: Arrival at the City

**Sorry for the wait on this one, and the length of it. But I promise the next one will have more action than this one. Because the Fire Nation is attacking, and Osamu is leaving. OOPS, spoilers. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and can't wait to hear what you think!**

* * *

Osamu watches as the people above the snow bend the snow downward for their small canoe to pass through. He breathes in the cold air, staring at his hands now and their shaking. The boy isn't quite sure why he's shaking—it's definitely not the cold. He thinks it might be because he has an idea in his head, one where he might share his finding.

Manirak turns to look at him, smiling and grabbing the boys shoulder. Gently squeezing it, he says, "It's wonderful, isn't it? I grew up here. When I was young, my father had to move to out to the village, bringing my family there." Manirak stares at the towering snow packed together, mumbling something about beauty before letting go of Osamu's shoulder.

After awhile, the canoe docks and Mizu jumps off, excited to see her older brother and start her training. But Osamu climbs out slowly, a bag slung over his shoulder and helping the other family get off before grabbing more bags. The least he can do, before they find out, is be nicer to them, the nicest he's ever been. Truthfully, he's never actually socialized with other people in the village. Here and there, yes, but never on a regular basis.

"Let's go see our boy, shall we?" Manirak asks, helping his wife off the canoe. Mika smiles at him, squeezing his hand before placing it on Osamu's shoulder.

"You're such a wonderful boy, Osamu," she says, training her eyes on him. "I bet girls will be chasing after you soon enough. Give them time." She removes her hand, turning to follow the group toward the main building.

Osamu doesn't follow for sometime, staring at the water lapping up against the boat. He doesn't know what to do with his new found abilities. He doesn't know what would be right or what would be wrong. The poor boy has no idea what will happen next, nor does he think he can handle.

He begins to walk toward the house, only to be stopped by Umimaru stepping out of the house. The older boy has a smile on his face as he walks forward. "Osamu!" Umimaru exclaims, patting the boy on the back, but not ushering him toward the house. Instead, he leads him toward the edge of the dock, where he ends up sitting.

The firebender stands for a few moments, watching as the water continues moving and lapping. "Come on, don't be afraid of the water." Osamu resists the urge to say he's not afraid of the water, just that he might fall in and turn the water into steam, or make it boil without meaning to. His new found powers are just that, new and unpredictable. Osamu has to stay calm, keep his anger in check throughout his stay.

The younger boy joins the soldier at the end, both of their feet just hovering above the water, Umimaru's closer because of his height. There's silence for a few moments, until Osamu breaks it with, "How's the war?" He doesn't know why he asked that, or why he would want to know, but he doesn't say anything beside that.

"The Avatar's alive," is all the older boy says, watching the small waves of water.

"How?"

"Word says he was somewhere in the South Pole. He's moving closer to us now, closer to the other waterbending tribe. The catch is that he's just a boy. A bit younger than you, I'd say."

"Why is he coming here? Why not stay at the South Pole?" Osamu doesn't know of the lack of waterbenders there, or that the Avatar hasn't learned waterbending yet. But he does soon.

"There's no waterbenders left in our sister tribe. They were wiped out by the Fire Nation long ago. And, as word says, he has yet to master the second element in the cycle."

"Why did they wipe them out? Why was the Northern Tribe spared?"

"Oh, they tried, Osamu." Umimaru laughs, but settles down to continue. "We fought them off, our numbers greater than the South Poles. The Fire Nation wants to rule the world. They want to gain control of all the remaining three nations, force them toward their cultures and ways of thinking, of making us think that their ways are better than ours. When, in fact, they are all the same."

"But, Umimaru-" The young firebender stops himself, afraid that someone could hear him tell Umi his nationality, of his past.

"What is it?"

He sighs, and says, "It's nothing."

* * *

That night, the family enjoys a meal full of laughter and the great food of the capital. They laugh, and listen as Miza tells them about the time she did something that embarrassed her father, long before Osamu came into the picture.

Osamu doesn't contribute to the conversation, only looking up from his meal when asked a question. During the family time they have, Osamu thinks of everything he's learned since his awakening. Of his new found bending, of the secret he wants to tell his brother, of his name and the people that always flicker pass his mind.

Of everything.

* * *

Days pass, brought with news of the Avatar finally arriving at the North Pole. Mizu keeps talking about him, how she once saw a girl she knew that traveled with him at healing practice. Umimaru comes home one day, a week after the supposed arrival of the Avatar, talking how the snow turned black.

"Soot mixed with the snow, Father," Umimaru states, holding out a handful of the black color snow. Osamu stands from his place on the seat next to the fire pit, looking at the warrior's glove. "They're coming."

At that, a sound breaks through the snow packed walls, leading Umimaru to say, "We have to go to the gathering hall. The chief wants us."

Manirak nods, understanding what's happening now and what danger lays ahead. So much danger and Osamu understands what's going to happen. All so quickly. The Fire Nation is attacking the untouchable North Pole.


	7. Chapter 7: The Fire Nation is Coming

**Hey guys. It's been awhile, but I've updated. I hope you enjoy, and that's all I have for this chapter.**

* * *

Osamu stares with wide eyes at the man that stands in front of falling water. His face is stern, wrinkles criss-crossing his face as he speaks. Two people sit behind him, a beautiful young girl about sixteen with striking white hair, almost as bright as the snow around it. Her legs are underneath her, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

_A princess, _Osamu notes, watching as she stares at the chief as he gets ready to speak.

A man sits on the other side of her. An old man, with graying hair and a mouth turned down. His eyes are downcast, as if he's mourning the wreckage about to come.

The young firebender can see that much from his place in the back row, behind all the faces of the North Pole capital. He sits on his knees, trying to get a good look at the Avatar that's said to be here, in the North Pole. Osamu's golden eyes pause on a wooden pole that sticks high in the air, moving downwards to see three people.

A boy with no hair. And two people that appear to be siblings even from his distance. Before he can get a better look, though, the chief begins speaking, his words booming through the air. "The day we feared for so long has arrived-the Fire Nation is at our doorstep. It is with great sadness I call my family here before me, knowing well that some of these faces are about to vanish from our tribe."

Osamu fidgets in his spot in the snow next to Umimaru, staring at the chief as he gives his speech. He doesn't belong there, he isn't part of the tribe. He is Fire Nation, but no one knows that. Not yet, at least.

"But they will never vanish from our hearts. Now, as we approach the battle for our existence"—as he says this, he holds up his hands—"I call upon the great spirits! Spirit of the Ocean! Spirit of the Moon! Be with us! I'm going to need volunteers for a dangerous mission."

One of the siblings by the first pillar stands, saying, "Count me in!" His sister hisses his name, but doesn't protest further. Many more men stand up, including Umimaru. But Osamu doesn't stand up.

"Be warned, many of you may not return. Come forward to receive my mark if you accept this task." The princess and the old man stand now, moving forward to stand beside the chief. The men walk forward, receiving the three red marks across the forehead. When the boy that first stood up gets there, the princess looks at him with a longing look. One that holds pain and hope.

She doesn't want him to fight.

They briefly make eye contact, the princess pleading with her eyes. Osamu never moves his eyes from her, watching from the edge of his eyes as the boy walks away, but never moving full focus on her. She puts her chin forward, closes her eyes, and lets a single tear fall down her face. It clings to the end of her chin, not wanting to let go, but then it plummets toward the ground.

Osamu swears he can hear it hit like shattering glass.

* * *

Umimaru is one of the last people to get his marks, but when he returns back to the family, he gets hugged, tears streaming down Mizu's and Mika's face. Manirak is proud, patting his son on the back with a expression that resembles sadness of a father. But Osamu is more concerned with the princess and the boy that's going off to war.

When Umimaru gets to him, the red paint still on his forehead, Osamu asks, "Who was the boy that stood up first?" He can't point him out, because he's gone with the bald boy and his sister. Umimaru looks around, trying to see who he's talking about but it ends in nothing.

"Who?"

"The boy with the wolf's tail. He looked at the princess and... That doesn't matter. Who is he?"

"I don't know him. He wasn't in my sector. I'm not even sure if he's from _here. _Maybe..."

"He's with the Avatar, isn't he? Wasn't he traveling with two other people, siblings? And the Avatar is-"

But he doesn't finish, because Umimaru shoves his hand on Osamu's mouth. He hisses, "Remember, Mom and Dad don't know you know. You aren't _supposed _to know. They say it's to protect you."

"But from _what? _They never tell me that. I want to know _what _they are protecting me from so I stay away from whatever it is."

"You don't need to know, Osamu," Umimaru states, his voice stern and ending the conversation as if he sliced the air before him with the sword that is stationed at his side.

* * *

After Umimaru finished speaking with Osamu, he decides to go look around. Well, he intends to actually walk back to the place they were staying, but he get sidetracked. Sidetracked by the bald boy he saw earlier. The Avatar.

He has so many questions for him, for the one he's only heard stories about from his older "brother", but there's so many question that float in his mind.

Walking from the speech hall through the palace is rather confusing for Osamu, but he soon finds his way out thanks to a guard. The firebender pushes through a crowd of talkative teenagers. He sees the light that shines off the bright snow outside. And three people.

The chief.

The girl that's siblings with the boy that first stood up.

And a boy that squats on one of the snow sculptures.

_The Avatar,_ Osamu thinks, stopping in his steps to listen. He knows eavesdropping is wrong; but he's learned so much from it so far.

The Avatar speaks, his voice that of a twelve year old boy, "I wasn't there when the Fire Nation attacked my people. I'm gonna make a difference this time." And he stands, staff behind his back, and looks at the winter sun high above.

Meanwhile, Osamu can feel the heat that rolls off the sun so far away, feel it in his very blood, feel it feeding him its strength, feel the fact that he can hold in the heat for long periods of time. He doesn't know why he didn't realize it sooner, the fact that he was of Fire Nation decent.

Before Osamu can move to speak, though, the Avatar jumps down and turns to the chief. "Chief Arnook, I'm going to be at the front lines." He turns to the girl next to him, and says, "Katara, let's go get Appa." They turn, walking toward Osamu and right around him.

But Osamu speaks up, right as the duo is disappearing around the corner. "Uh, Avatar!" he shouts, running toward the two as they turn around, thinking that the chief probably called for them. They actually seem surprised by the fact that this boy—not much older than thirteen—is calling for the all mighty Avatar.

The girl, brushing off the fact of him calling bluntly for the Avatar, speaks first, "Hello, we're kind of in a rush-"

"I know. The Fire Nation is attacking," Osamu interrupts, turning his attention toward the Avatar. "But I'm going to make this quick. Avatar, I have a question for you."

"Aang, call me Aang."

"I'm Osamu, but that's not important. Avatar," he says, his words rushed and using his title instead of his name, "Avatar, I was just wondering...is it possible for someone to lose their memory? Of everything and only see it at times?"

Aang looks confused, staring at this thirteen year old boy, but then he realizes he's younger on the outside as well, that he's only twelve. And he doesn't know how to answer. The girl next to him elbows him, a swift move to get him to speak, a reminder of where they should be.

"Well, um, I guess. I don't really know, Osamu."

"It could be like the nightmares you had, Aang. When that storm came and made them worse than they already were. Maybe...maybe whatever you do triggers those lost memories," the girl next to him adds.

But Aang has no response, he stares at the young boy, waiting for his response. But before more is said, a gong comes from the front wall, and Aang smiles at the boy, bringing his hand to Osamu's hair and ruffling it. "Even if I don't have a legit answer, Osamu, I think you already know the answer."

That's one of the last times he sees the Avatar.


	8. Chapter 8: An Ear to Hear

**It's been awhile, and I'm sorry for the late updates. I've been trying to keep them close together, but life doesn't work like that. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and can't wait to see you next time.**

* * *

Osamu only stays at the house for dinner without Umimaru. After that, he rushes to his shared room for a few moments, staying there writing a short letter speaking of his departure. The firebender proceeds to packing a small bag, filled with food he placed in his pockets from dinner and a change of clothes.

He looks over the letter, scribbling out a few lines before replacing them with more ink.

It is his farewell letter.

A good-bye to the people who protected him, a good-bye to his family. And how he doesn't want to finish it. Then again, Osamu knows secrets can't stay buried forever, and boy has his secret stayed buried for a long time.

He knows he needs to find out the rest of his past, why he can produce fire from his body, why he was found in melting snow, why he doesn't remember anything except for bits now and then. Oh spirits he wants to know everything about him. And Osamu knows that if he stays with these people, he will never find out anything he needs.

So he places the letter neatly on his bed, his bag shouldered and with a longing look, walks toward the exit. It's probably the last time he's ever going to see the people who raised him, and he departs with a simple letter and no good-bye.

To say the least, Osamu thinks he's a coward.

But he doesn't go back to say anything more, just lets himself walk out in the night.

* * *

The first fireball hits right in front of him, and he staggers backward. A scream begins to work in Osamu's throat, but it doesn't let itself lose. A bit of the smell from the flames hits his nostrils, and he almost gags on the smell of tart and oil and flames. But he composes himself and pulls the bag higher on his shoulder.

The trek to where he believes he should be, the ports, might be long, seeing as he's only vaguely aware of where it is. He keeps staring at the night sky, expecting more fire to hit him, but nothing comes close. He finds the cavern that leads to the ports, hidden away in case of something happening and them needing a getaway probably.

That's when Osamu feels the tremor from the front wall breaking. It shakes the ice and snow that the city is built on, causing Osamu to fall on his butt before standing quickly.

* * *

It's nearly morning and Osamu still can't find a ship that's small enough for him. During his search, the sky had changed different colors, and he felt the balance of the world tip scales. Something happened while he was in the port, searching for a getaway.

That's when the sea spirit monster attacks, a foot stepping a bit too close to the entrance of the port. The translucent water shakes the ground again, and it takes a lot of Osamu's strength to stay standing.

By dawn, he leaves the ports, only finding big battle ships that he can't operate on his own. He rushes past all the people that are scrabbling around the melting snow, some benders freezing the important places back together.

The firebender makes it to the wall, spotting a floating ship just hanging on with two people. They're just a ways off the shore, and Osamu knows he can make it, if barely. He starts running, not knowing the two people that are on such a makeshift boat. One of them, younger than the first, is laying down.

It briefly crosses his mind that the younger person might fall off. Osamu can't think much of it, though, because he's in the air and his arms are flailing, trying to grip something in the clear air.

Osamu hits the wood with a _thud _and thinks he might fall through the substance. Both men twist about, the one laying down standing up and getting into a stance that Osamu recognizes as firebending. Nothing comes from his fists as Osamu studies his face. Marks from what he thinks to have been the battle criss-cross his face, but the scar that folds across his left eye is permanent.

"Hands down, Zuko," the older one says, walking toward Osamu on the small floating boat. "Who are you, boy? And why were you jumping on to the boat?"

"I'm running. My name is Osamu, and I'm running away." He pauses, waiting for someone to say anything. "More like running to, actually."

"Running to where?" the one called Zuko asks.

"To my past."

The two share glances, both skeptical of the almost fourteen year old, but it's too late for them to send him back to the North Pole. They're too far away from shore, making their way through the destroyed Fire Navy ships. Before either of the two can ask, Osamu points at a ship, asking, "What happened here? Why are the Navy's boats destroyed?"

"The Avatar," the younger man says. Though, now that he had a look at him, he doesn't seem much like a boy. At least sixteen now.

Osamu mutters to himself, "Didn't know such a small boy could cause mass destruction." Then he points at the older man, saying, "Who are you?"

"Uncle Iroh." Uncle Iroh shoves his chest forward, making it appear that he has more of a chest than stomach. Zuko places his head in his hands before laying back down.

Osamu stares at him, examining his white clothes that cling to his skin as if he just went swimming. Uncle Iroh, on the other hand, is wearing a red robe that his hands are placed in, staring down at the young boy before him. A fire symbol holds the robe together.

"Are you firebenders?" Osamu asks, the words falling out.

Uncle Iroh only smiles at him, nodding a yes, and then asking, "Are you one?"

The boy shrugs, staring at the water as it hits the logs. "It's complicated."

"And we have a long time before we hit land." Osamu sits down, continuing to stare at the ocean. Iroh joins him. And so Osamu tells him his tale, speaking of everything he knows. The elder nods and wishes for a cup of tea to share with the boy, who seems to grow as his tale is told.

Then the words fall, the words he know he shouldn't ask. "Can you help me?"

Iroh smiles again. "What am I, if not a helper?"


End file.
